Hallelujah Harrogate
by Sleepy Dakini
Summary: DISCLAIMER: Characters contained within are the creative genius of the brilliantly talented Sally Wainwright.
1. Chapter 1 - Hart's Hotel

...She exits the Jeep with a slam. Performing a half walk - half run as she travels. River stones coat the drive in a jagged veneer, robbing her of balance. They'd steal her dignity too, if she'd an ounce left to lose. Her gait breaks with a bit of a limp, scattering insecurities along the levelled landscape.

She'd sat long enough, seat belt tight to her chest, holding her heart in place, while she'd watched the clouds deposit drops, like memories, across the wind shield.

Alone. Panicked.

Through the door. Down the hall. Up the stairs. A rabid scramble from room to room. Back down the stairs.

"Boys I'm off to Nottingham for the night... Gran and Alan are 'round back if you need them... my mobile's on for emergencies... I'm back tomorrow evening." She'd called it out as one lengthy, elucidative sentence; efficiently expressed in a Caroline kind of way. She'd certainly perfected the ability to deliver a tone. A skill honed amidst a lifetime of restriction and containment. Always managing to mask the shattered and severed emotions, crashing recklessly beneath a weakened and thinning surface. There was plenty hiding beneath that beautiful exterior. Tucked in to well-organized drawers. Carefully catalogued. Items she'd rather have left alone. Until Kate.

She'd stuffed more than enough fabric, for two days, along with a tooth brush, a hair brush, a lint brush...what else? into a well-worn leather carpet bag, a gift, cherished since early university days. Grabbed her Mackintosh and Wellies from the front closet and leaned into the family room for a feeble farewell from the boys. The boys..Greg and Lawrence... And Flora, of course. Tiny, happy, beautiful Flora. The constant reminder.

John, home again, managed to pull himself away from the wine rack long enough to show a sliver of interest. "Where are you off to?" He of course launches it into the air as an accusation, neatly folded, like some fateful fortune, into an unfaithful balloon following an air stream. Down the corridor, dashing after it's intended recipient. He's brandishing a bottle of red in one hand, white in the other. Now doing his best half ninja - half idiot clown impersonation, unintentionally of course. Run Caroline.

"Stay sober," she barely mumbles, a soured taste forging a track to the back of her tongue. Her back remains to him in a failed effort of denial as she pulls the door behind her, listening to the hinges rattle in skeletal protest. Heart still in her throat she tosses the belongings into the back seat and pounds the door with an indescribable anger. Grief grabbing hold, again. Then in complete contrast she takes the time to retrieve a potted French Lilac from the garden greenhouse, a yearling that she'd been nursing with loving intent. Buckles it into the passenger seat next to hers. Company. Returning to the driver's side Caroline harnesses herself into place. A lot less loved and much less valued.

Having made the transition from the A1 to the 614, the tears had finally lessened and she's now capable of some minor administrations. The first task - book a room. Typically she'd have stayed with Maggie and Charles, but not this trip. Today she was in need of some time alone, had made the decision to treat herself to her favourite suite at Hart's Hotel.

"Adulterine! Maggie! I'm a bloody adulteress!" She'd pulled her closest friend on to the hands free speaker and began to unleash a hailstorm of emotion, in less than a second, after recognizing the voice on the other end.

"Caroline are you able to slow down a touch? I haven't caught a word. Really!? ...Will you be staying with us, Love?"

"No I've booked the suite at Hart's. I'll spend the afternoon alone in The Forest, unless you're available? It'd be lovely if you were available."

"I can make it to you this evening if it works. I've a wedding in an hour and Sunday service in the morning, at nine. Beyond that, I'm yours. We can spend the better part of the day together, tomorrow, if it suits you.

She's begun to cry again. "I need to see you Maggie."

The Reverend Margaret Cameron. Ordained among the first thirty two women to stand before the alter of the church of England on March 12th 1994, arrived at Caroline's suite nearly half past seven, concerned and confused. Maggie had ordained five years after she and Caroline had separated. In those five years she had married Charles, given birth to two sons and obtained a Masters of Theology from the University of Oxford. From the moment she'd heard Caroline's fragile voice earlier in the day she was aware that there'd be a well-planned walk through Sherwood Forest, a plan that had the potential to take them well into the night and possibly on to early morning. Words had never come easily for Caroline and a well-placed distraction would ease the agony. The years had mellowed their love and they'd each grown to appreciate the companionship of the other, both understanding the value of a honourable life well lived.

Caroline pulled the door with the first landed rap. "Maggie." The flood gates open with the entrance, and Maggie is able to step quickly enough to take her to her breast and hold her there until Caroline manages to collect. She's finally comfortable, releasing her hold, Maggie leads them to the garden. Caroline has chilled a bottle of white wine and ordered a sandwich tray for the two to share.

"You really do love this room. What will you ever do the day it's not available dear girl?" Maggie's hoping to provide a distraction. Caroline's desolation is obvious, certainly drowning in her own misery. Maggie turns to take in the view of the private garden, lime shrubbery cleaving its way into a sunset of tangerine and grapefruit, sectioned against the greens of Sherwood Forest. "The glow worms will be out soon, just as the sun sets. Would you like to watch them from here or head out after we eat?"

"No matter." She's seated now, on the edge of a cast iron garden chair, snapping her napkin in the cool evening air, a last attempt to wave away her own misery. "Good Lord Maggie, can you take that thing off? Sorry, my apologies I didn't mean to take His nam...you know. I've just never gotten used to it...on you." She's referring to the clerical collar, emblematically binding her ex-lover in the role of Priest, of Purity and Godliness. "I'm sorry Mags I just can't do this with you wearing that. It'll feel more like a confession and less like a conversation. Do you mind?" She's wiped the collar of the wine bottle with a symbolic gesture of sorts, sets it to rest and gracefully passes the plate of tea sandwiches. "Hungry?"

"Yes. My apologies Love. I forget it's on from time to time. Wouldn't want to have to hear the confession of an adulteress." There's a twinkle in her eye as she takes the platter. "No cucumber? You should leave a comment card." She looks up for confirmation but there's still no sign of relief. "Caroline are the boys alright?"

"Of course, why wouldn't they be?"

"Flora?"

"Yes!"

"Your Mum?"

"Maggie. Please!" She's after more wine. Rising from her temporary perch she makes her way back indoors to the suite's seating area. Caroline halts; just the other side of the patio entrance. She manages to spin, then finally spit it out, ridding herself of the poison filled saliva she's been unable to swallow all day. "I think I've met someone." Shoulders down, her jumper leant to one side, mud muralled her jeans, marked by an afternoon romp in the forest upon her arrival. "What am I going to do Maggie?"

"What? Caroline. That's brilliant." She's off the chair in an instant. Quickly into the seating area to join in celebration, but then recognizes the despair upon approach. "Ahh Kate...of course...Kate..."

Caroline. Suspended in the centre of the room, watching the final slice of citrus drip behind the hill.

"I can't love anybody, not again, not the way I love Kate.

...loved..."


	2. Chapter 2 - Good God Maggie

"My God Caroline. You look so.."

"What?!" Right hand tightly constricted at her side. Left forefinger dragging at the cuticle of her thumb, biting away at the hardened flesh just above the nail...and then "What!"

"...well...so pitiful. I don't quite understand... you're just so, so beggarly. Do something with yourself. I don't know. Sit. Pace. Stomp. We both know that you know how to stomp. Do something."

"We could head into Sherwood." She's not broken her stare.

"Don't be daft. Look at it out there. Sit. Try to sit at least. Tell me about her. Can you? Have you kissed her?" Maggie finally asks, a bit playful yet somewhat seriously curious.

"Well of course I've kissed her. I wouldn't be here if I hadn't kissed her now would I? Actually, she kissed me."

"And you didn't kiss her back now did you?" Smirk accompanied by tone.

"Of course not!"

"So you ran then? Just like you did all those years ago?"

"Right...just like that." She sits.

* * *

Scarcely able to contain what had been an accumulating sense of relief, Caroline stood guard long enough to ensure the full retreat of Celia and Kenneth Dawson. The nose of his precious Orion pointed directly at Banbury Road, edging only slowly at first. Slow enough to allow Celia one final farewell swivel - followed by a curt wave.

Her own hand still swinging severally through the early autumn air, Caroline can feel her feet begin to slide beneath her as she takes her first steps backward. Cautiously at first as though stepping back onto a thinned and slippery surface. She knew how to manage these first few unstable strides. She'd spent the entire summer navigating the surface of Celia's distressed and prohibiting discriminations. Constantly chased for three entire months by a calamitous cloud of sorrow and suffering that had been chaperoned in on the storm of her mother's conditional love.

When she could no longer identify the dreaded Orion, she turned and quickened the pace, dug her steps deeply into the hallowed ground and headed directly toward the dormitory, moving much like a foal set free.

Breaking stride through the brick arches and passages, dodging parents and trunks, running to rid herself of the remnants of summer, finding freedom in every step.

It had been a summer of revelation. Two months of sorting and sanitizing test tubes, beakers and Bunsen burners in the laboratory of the Chemical Company that employed her father had been just about enough to put Caroline Dawson off chemistry for all time.

But there were some redeeming features to the summer - the most delightful of all had been found in the opportunity to get to know her Dad. Daily commutes to and from work - she grew to love the freshly shaved smell of him in the morning, the quiet noon hours in the cafeteria, the lunches out together on paydays. And whether or not Celia was aware - each day on their route home the two would stop at a nearby pub for a "refresher" as he liked to call it, before finding their way home for dinner. Her Dad was predictable in taste - Gin - tonic - twist. Caroline however spent the entire summer systematically working her way through the entire beverage menu - and when that was done she would finger her way back to the beginning again; eliminating of course the absolute worst, making mental note of what she felt was appropriate for what occasion - what company - what meal.

And so, on the night when she'd caught her mum tossing one of Kenneth's dress shirt's to the curb with the Rubbish, she made her way to the bins after dark and retrieved the item - plum sized ink stain and all. On an afternoon alone she'd laundered the piece, starched and pressed it, gave it a spritz of her Dad's cologne and set it aside with the remainder of items destined to make their way back to Oxford. The perfect night shirt she thought.

She'd slowed her gate to a walk-skip now weaving through the final two tunnels that lead to her dormitory. There'd been some confusion this fall. Caroline had always had a single room. These old halls were far to small for double occupancy - in her modest opinion. But this year it seemed that was exactly what had happened. She blamed herself. Not having made application early enough last spring she was now under the impression that it was her own doing that may have very well landed her a roommate. A confident wink from the Dormitory Leader after lengthy discussion led her to believe that he'd wave her up the list in the event of any last minute withdrawals.

Back at her building she calmly clears three full flights one stair at time, thinking all the while, musing upon the thought of how different it was to have her parents stay the night after the family's temporary fall migration made on her behalf. She'd become used to an early Sunday departure from Harrogate straight through to Oxford. They'd typically make a direct turn around and head directly home again - leaving Caroline to fend for herself in the unpacking and placing department. But this year was different. Her Dad had an interest, wanted to linger, tour the College, even have dinner out. So they had left Harrogate on the Saturday morning - early. Spent the afternoon settling Caroline into her room, had dinner out and then headed off to a hotel room just near the campus.

She's headed down the hall now wondering what the two of them, her parents, would ever do, alone in a hotel room for an entire night. She's laughing to herself when she realises that the door to her room is cracked open - key dangling from the hole - boxes stacked three feet high and out into the hallway. George Michael's _Careless Whisper_ weaving its way through the air.

"_Shit_." Her stomach twists. Caroline was never fond of meeting new people. Didn't have the time or incline. Couldn't be bothered. She slowly shoves the doors to room 3C open. It lets go a creek just loud enough to catch the ear of the room's new addition.

"Well there you are!"

"Maggie?" Delight in her voice.

Maggie Cameron. All five foot ten inches of her. She had the build of her Dad and the look of her mum. The daughter of the Reverend Michael Cameron. He was tall, lean, athletic, British born, Oxford educated. He had married Marghaerita Mancini, Doctorate of Philosophy, Italian born, Oxford educated.

Maggie. The flawless blend of them both. Tall. Lean. Athletic. Brilliant. Olive skin tanned by the sun of a Nottingham summer. Dark curls cut at the jaw line, tussled in every direction, never combed. And possibly the brownest eyes Caroline had ever seen. Today there was a slip of summer freckles stretched across a chiselled nose, set by a summer of sun on the River Trent, teaching the fundamentals of her beloved sport.

"Surprise. Hah. How do you like our new home?" She stretches her lengthy arms across the breadth of the tiny space. Go on, you can thank me with a hug. Well you can thank my Dad actually. Pulled a few strings on our behalf. That's right. Final year of Undergraduate studies and it's just you, me and a mountain of work. Oh right and Charles when he's the time."

"_Charles. Bleechhh._"

She wraps her arms about her beloved friend. "Maggie this is brilliant. I had no idea. I thought my own neglect in getting everything sorted had landed me an unknown passenger.

"Nope. Just me. Where've you been?"

"Breakfast with Mum and Dad and then seeing them off?"

"Really?"

"Yep. There's a story."

"There's always a story Caroline"

They share their first laugh of the year.

Caroline steps away from her friend and sits herself down neatly on her tightly made bed.

"Um Maggie - do you think possibly you've brought along a bit too much for the size of our space?" Caroline's now counted up to seventeen containers including five suitcases, three duffels, one leather carpet bag, 11 cardboard boxes, and four sets of rowing oars - or blades, as she'd been so politely corrected to call them on more than one occasion. Two classical. Two modern.

"Upp." It was a sound Maggie made whenever she felt there was a solution to a problem - or if she were suddenly struck by something entertaining to do. It was more often than not accompanied by a long slender index fingered pointed partially to the air and partially in your direction notifying one to 'stand by.' "Not to worry Caroline, more than half belongs to Charles. He's driving down with a friend later this afternoon - in a two seater - so Dad and I brought along his belongings in the Parish van. Speaking of Charles. We're meeting He and John for drinks and a bit of snooker at The Swan in an hour. You'll want to get ready."

"John?"

"Upp. Sorry. One of Charles' childhood friends. Taking a year away from his studies. Wants to be a writer. Well, spent the summer writing and has decided to carry on. Charles has told him about you." She's dragging boxes from the hallway now.

"You mean you've told him about me." Caroline's shifting what's already in the room to make space for what's left to come.

"Well some. Not all. Charles told him you can be both beautiful and brash at the same time. I had nothing to say in reference to that."

"Well what's that supposed to mean?" Sounding beautiful and brash.

"I don't know Caroline. Come on. Let's just get ready. It'll be fun. We'll walk and get caught up."

"Maggie I don't want to _mmeeet _anybody. Especially a writer or the sort."

"Caroline he's just a friend of Charles'. He's nice. Now get ready."

It's only a short jaunt to the ol' Swan, but there's time enough to get caught up on the missing months. Reacquainting with each other - rebuilding a comfort.

"I think sometimes he wishes he had a son Caroline." She's batting low hanging branches as they walk. "Someone to follow in his footsteps. I can sense it periodically when I'm working with him."

"How?" Caroline's stabbing at the few early fallen leaves along the pavement with the tip of her umbrella.

"Well for example. We can be doing something together, working maybe, fixing something, cleaning the church, and he'll pause - stop and stare at me - like he's never seen me before. It's odd. I don't know how to respond. So I just look away or continue working."

"Maybe it's not what you're not. Maybe it's what you _are_ that he's looking at."

"What are you talking about Caroline?" She stops, hands on hips. Huffy.

Caroline's walking on, expressive hands moving in the air.

"He's loves you more than anything Maggie. Maybe he sees your Mum."

"Hadn't thought of that." She responds, catching up. I know he still misses her. I catch him looking at old photos from time to time. He'd like us to go to Italy together after graduation. Visit her grave. He said you could come with if you'd like."

"Alright. Wouldn't you rather take Charles? How was the summer with Charles?" She had to ask. It'd be rude not to.

"It was good. Grand actually. I spent some time in London with him when I could, met his parents. That was hard."

"Right."

"I slept with him Caroline."

"DID YOU?"

"Well don't sound so shocked. It's what people do. Well it's what adults do, don't they?" Maggie's trying to sound so...grown up.

"Well how was it?" Caroline's giggling now having turned herself around to walk backward in front of Maggie. She needs to see her face.

"Honestly?"

"Well of course honestly."

Maggie stops and leans in to whisper. There's nobody for blocks. "Mehh. I didn't call you to tell you, so that should give you some idea."

"Maybe he just needs practice. Maybe you both just need practice. I don't know? How would I know?"

"I hope so." The two break into laughter. "God I've missed you Caroline."

"Yah."

Introductions were made.

Drinks were ordered.

Bets were laid.

An awkwardness hangs in the air.

"Caroline could you at least try to be nice to him? For my sake. For Charles." They're stood together, opposite side of the Snooker table from the boys.

"I don't like him Maggie. And if I don't like somebody I can't pretend, can I?" Caroline's had a few.

"How do you know you don't like him? We've been here only short of an hour."

"I can tell. I can just tell. What did we bet? I don't like losing and I'm useless at Snooker."

"If we win we get the car for the ride back. They'll have to trudge home in the rain."

"Brilliant Mags. Well done. And if they win?"

"We have to kiss." Maggie spits it out quickly, almost hoping that Caroline wouldn't hear.

"Wh who whoo - you - and ?" She's pointing to herself. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Don't worry it'll be fine. I'm a crack shot. And think about it. A tiny kiss is far better than a trudge in this down pour. We'll leave them your umbrella for the walk..." She laughs.

**JOHN WAS A CRACK SHOT!**

"Well that's it then ladies. You owe us a round and a snog then don't you? If you don't mind I'd like a drink in hand before the show if that's alright."

The girls are at the bar now, waiting on drinks now.

"Maggie I can't do this. I can't do this." She's grabbed the two remaining glasses from the veneered counter and left a tip.

"You'll be fine Caroline. It'll be over before you know it." There's a calm that surrounds Maggie Cameron - in most circumstances.

"I'm going to be sick."

"No you're not going to be sick Caroline. Now just take a breath."

They make their way back to the table.

Drinks in hand, sat and waiting in anticipation the boys have clearly been sharing a laugh or too. A touch too confident and far too cocky for Caroline's taste.

Caroline sits to the edge of her chair in anticipation of a quick getaway should the need arise.

"Shall we just do it and get it over with?" Maggie blurts, perched to her left.

Caroline turns abruptly, eyes pulled wide, jaw locked, with the look of a mad woman.

It's over. Maggie's reached in. Seized the moment. Done the deed.

The sound of whistles and hoots swirl around Caroline's head. They've attracted the attention of a few nearby tables.

"Well that was well worth the cost of admission." John salutes the ladies with a bit of slur.

"You should shave." Caroline barks - stands and shoves her chair in.

Charles breaks into a laugh.

John shoots him a baffled daze.

"Well she's right. You should." Charles defends.

Maggie's silent. Running her thumb in circles around the mouth of her glass, staring into her drink.

"Nobody in their right mind is going to lay their mouth on that face, stubbles and such." She's said it calmly enough to leave the effect of Caroline Dawson, now making her way to the Ladies room.

Caroline is halfway down the darkened corridor and spots the Exit sign directly above the delivery door. In a panicked and distressed state she drives at the hand bar and heads into the torrential downpour headed directly back to the dormitory.

She's stripped now, left a puddle of drenched cloth in the middle of the floor, pulled on her dad's old dress shirt and climbed into bed - crying herself to sleep.

She's awakened by the sound of a key in the door. Pulled fully into the present by the triangular expanse of light working its way up the wall, taking on a kite like shape as it bends its way across the ceiling. The silhouette of a woman dropped into the centre of the shadow like a key hole.

"Caroline?" Maggie whispers.

She waits a second or two for response. Then again.

"Caroline?" Just a touch louder now.

Nothing.

Maggie leans out the window to the set of shadows below. "She's here gentlemen. You can head off now. We'll see you tomorrow."

"But my things..." Charles is confused by Maggie's dismissal. Well to be truthful, he can be confused by Maggie - generally. But he does love her."

"You can have your things tomorrow."

She draws the window down and slams it shut.

"Caroline? Are you awake?"

Even with the sounds of students mingling below, drunken, laughing, bringing the beginnings of fall term to their ancient cemented sill.

Even with the explicit feminine squeals followed by vigorous male hollers, twisting their way up the historic bricked walls and into their room.

Even with the sound of pelting rain, forcing the yellowed fall leaves of their elderly birch to shimmer against their fragile glassed window.

Even with all of that. Even through her own panicked function, Maggie can hear Caroline's broken breathing.

Knows she's been crying.

Wants to console her.

Once more. "Are you awake?"

"Well I am now aren't I?"

She pulls her knees to her chest and her sheet to her cheek, wipes her eyes with the satiny edge and forces her head beneath her pillow. It still smells of home. It only muffles the sounds. It doesn't help her disappear. She wants to disappear. But where? There's nowhere to go.

"Are you all right? What's happening? Why did you leave Caroline? "

"Go to bed Maggie."

"I'm not going to bed, I'm coming to you. What's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I don't think we've a choice Caroline. Do you? Truly."

Maggie's dropped her clothes, grabbed an old grey t-shirt from some earlier year- a faded oar etched across the breast - dragged it over her head and popped her arms through. She climbs into the single bed, just behind Caroline, just as she'd done so many times before. Nights of studying, drinking, sharing, laughing, too tired to make her way back to the other end of campus.

She's propped herself up on a bended arm, resting a heated cheek in one hand, running the other through her own damp and tangled hair wanting to do something - anything.

"Go away." A muffled plea from beneath the feathered shield.

"I'm not going anywhere Caroline."

"Alright then I'll sleep in yours." She yanks the pillow by a corner and snaps it back deliberately hitting Maggie square in the face.

"Alright, I deserved that."

Maggie catches her by the wrist as Caroline attempts to reach across her. Find an exit path. Scurry. "You're not going anywhere Caroline. And besides I've not made mine yet, the sheets are still boxed somewhere in this bloody chaos." She's frustrated now.

Caroline's caught. Held by both wrists. Maggie's forced her upright. She's now knelt, straddled over one tanned fit leg. Working to avoid eye contact, pretending to follow some engaging crack as it carves an irregular path down the beige concrete blocked wall at the head of her bed.

"Let go Maggie please. You're hurting me." It comes out through a sob, sounds a bit like a hiccup.

"Caroline! Truthfully. I'm barely holding you. You're free to go as soon as you tell me what's happening." She pulls Caroline's hand to her heart.

"You saw my face." It falls out. Forced possibly by a heartbeat.

"Of course I saw your face. I was kissing you. But I thought you were reacting to mine. To me. I thought I'd repulsed you."

_A silence explodes in the room._

_Deafens the confusion._

_Clarifies the causes._

_Exposes the concealed._

"I would do it again Caroline. I would do it without a bet. I wish I had done it without a bet. I wish I had done it of my own courage. Somewhere else. Some other time. I'm sorry."

She releases her. Caroline can see the tears as they begin to tumble. Doesn't leave. Doesn't move.

"Then do it again Maggie." She subtly pulls the pad of a thumb across a salted stream running its way over a beautifully bronzed cheekbone - then drags it across her bottom lip - leans in for a taste. Maggie tangles her fingers into the strands of hair at the base of Caroline's skull trying to pull her away.

"We can't do this Caroline."

"We are doing it Maggie." She leans in again so close this time that Maggie can feel Caroline's words on her own lips. "Kiss me. Please."

_Something soft finds a place to fall, is set aside._

_Something solid, concrete, finds its fashion._

_Unchaining itself from a timeless stone._

Maggie grabs at the starched white dress shirt that's binding Caroline in reflective moonlight, bunching the front of it into her fist. She's focused on the cloud like stain just below the breast, piercing her heart like a blackened stigmata.

Her father's dress shirt.

An intake of breath. She flips her to her back. One thread like tear trickles from the edge of a nostril and drops to Caroline's lip. Caroline licks it away tugging at Maggie's own desires like a marionette's manipulator.

Caroline's pulling at the tattered t-shirt now, a quick tug over the head draws Maggie's mouth terrifically near. She's stolen. Taken. A kiss so hard Caroline can feel her flinch. She can't release her - won't.

"Can we slow a bit Caroline?" Managing to draw her mouth away just enough to speak. She hears a swallow - dry.

"I don't know how - to slow it down Maggie - to make it stop. I've tried. For two years I've tried and all I know is that I want you so badly, have for so long."

And then - a silence that breaks them both. Decorating the darkness with an invisible light. Until..

"But I've never - well I've never been with anybody. You know that. I've not even kissed anyone - until tonight."

Maggie's staring down into those dangerously blue eyes. Can feel Caroline's feet working along the outside of her legs, drawing her knees upward, winding herself around her. Maggie's unprotected now. They both are. It's there, in the room, in the air, swirling around them, binding them tighter with every breath. Their craving, their hunger, their greed.

"Caroline. I know what you want. What you think you need. I'm just not sure that I should be the one - to give it to you. I'm not sure that I can."

She can feel one hand now, playing at the despondent curls on the back of her neck, beginning to draw circles down her spine, around each and every vertebrae. Slowing gradually at each newly discovered ridge. Down to the small of her back, down to the bottom of a buttock - a hand pulling her in. She's Desperate now wanting to reach for the dampened desire waiting - for her.

_"God help me."_

It's her only thought. Her only civilized thought as she drops her head. Shamed. She'd made a promise, long ago, alone in the back of the college chapel, staring up at the ceiling pretending to count the rafters - that this would be the one person, the soul that she would never hurt. Never cause pain. Never leave. Never damage.

"I want you. Now. Maggie." Caroline's tugging at the buttons of her own shirt - writhing her way out of the fabric.

Maggie's mouth instinctually finds its way to the bared breast. Helpless now.

Caroline takes a hand - guiding. "Take me Maggie. Please."

"I'll hurt you. I can't hurt you." Maggie can feel the tears welling again.

Caroline leans forward just enough to whisper. "I'll be fine. Now stop talking."

She smiles - pulls Maggie mouth to her own and begins to rise to Maggie's fall.

Maggie's bewildered by the beauty.

Astounded by the absence of any hesitation.

Driven by Caroline's determination.

Watching the perfect rhythm rocking beneath her own body.

This beautiful body, wanting her, needing her.

Simplistic yet stunning.

She's terrified - until she hears the breathing build into battled moans. Caroline's want for more. Driving herself harder and harder against Maggie's hand. Wanting to pull her deeper.

"Look at me Caroline. You need to tell me.."

"..now. Please Maggie." Caroline's desperate grievance sending sheets of shivers down her spine, electricity charges like lightening through her entire body.

A witness to her own destruction. Doomed now by her own desire Maggie forces on.

"_God forgive me._"

A promise broken - languished - lost.

She's Fallen.

Caroline's eyes slam shut. A frown ripples to the surface of her brow as her head rolls back.

Maggie hears the first wince wrenching from within a now exposed neck.

Caroline biting at her own lip - containing the sounds - holding her breath.

Searching for forgiveness she runs a merciful mouth the length of Caroline's neck.

The wince now waxing to a whine, fingers digging at her back - running along the length of her ribs.

Maggie's able to find her mouth - to force a breath.

A slow saddened kiss is met with a wanting wish.

"Don't stop. Please Maggie. Don't stop."

The whine magnifies to a moan. She feels the beauty beneath her relax again.

Caroline's working desperately to regain her rhythm.

The moan now morphing. A thrust. A deeper moan. Another thrust. A lethal moan laden in longing and love and lust.

Caroline's eyes open - radiant.

Gone is the school girl want - the youthful longing.

In its place the determined desire of a woman - pulling Maggie deeper and deeper with each thrust - driving against her - owning her.

She's fascinated by it. Mesmerized. Trapped by the absolute elegance. The splendour.

Then the shock of a sudden shudder. The jagged response to it all as Caroline cries out. Offering up her breast. Her heart. Her soul. To Maggie.

They're silent now. Tangled. Descending into sleep they lie there - still - for minutes.

Maggie's head to Caroline's breast - listening to the slowing heartbeat.

Caroline running a hand through Maggie's hair - pulling at the sloppy curls.

Maggie moves an arm, begins to pull her hand from within - there's a complainant grumble - a shift - and then a bit of a chuckle.

"Good God Maggie- I had no idea."

"Caroline! Pick another word. I can't even think about God right now."

* * *

"Caroline? Caroline."

She's pulled back to the present by a beautifully familiar sound – her voice.

"Your phone…"

She looks down at the small table to see her mobile vibrating – dancing – across the glass table top, pushing Maggie's clerical collar with it as goes.

The words "_Bronze's Florist and Nursery"_ flashing white on the blue lit background. Caroline delicately pounds the key marked 'mute' and slams the phone, face down against table.

Releases the one breath she's been harbouring for moments, shifts both gaze and posture in one laborious movement, then looks up - directly into the brownest eyes she's ever known.

"Will you stay, tonight?"


End file.
